I’ve been looking for a new pair of casual tennis shoes for several months because the ones I’ve been wearing now have holes in the soles, and I’ve had my eye on a pair of vintage Nikes (like these). Last August when we took a trip to Los Angeles I saw the exact pair I wanted in the Nike Store at The Grove, but the guy selling shoes did not believe that I wear an 8½ and REFUSED TO LET ME TRY THEM ON. He said he’d bring me a 10 because he was certain I wear a 10. Yes, I know I’m tall and I’m supposed to have big feet, and it would be nice if I did because then I wouldn’t be so clumsy trying to balance all five feet eleven inches of my body on such ill-proportioned feet DO I REALLY NEED TO GO INTO THIS? That was one of those bad shopping experiences I’ll still be bringing up over dinner with friends when I’m 80. And Jon will roll his eyes and go BABY. SERIOUSLY. Because when he’s 90 he’ll still call me Baby.

Anyway, I found this pair in San Francisco over the weekend, and although they aren’t as vintage as I would like they will do. And the size? 8½ MOTHER EFFERS!

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